


Broken like me

by obscureshipyard



Series: Hydra Husbands crossovers through space and time [1]
Category: Desolate (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Point Blank (2019)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Cover Art, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emotional Baggage, Frottage, HYDRA Husbands, Hitman Van, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Truck stop hooker Abe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard
Summary: Van liberates a truck stop hooker while on a job. He knows it was a stupid move, but he's never really thought of himself as a smart man. He's always known his heart was a fool.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Van/Abe
Series: Hydra Husbands crossovers through space and time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101521
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! Time for my foray into an interesting part of any rarepair fandom: the random crossovers with other characters each actor has played. Brace yourself, it's gonna be a wild and very random ride.
> 
> To start it off we've got Van from Desolate (2018) and Abe from Point Blank (2019). Van got a raw deal at the end of Desolate so we're just gonna skip right over that piece, this could take place before the events of the movie but that's up to you to decide. Abe gets dropped into the this verse, and honestly with how he handled things in Point Blank, this is likely how he would have ended up in this verse regardless.
> 
> Thanks to mittagsfrau for helping with ideas/inspiration  
> AND FOR THE AMAZING COVER ART!!! :D :D :D :D :D
> 
> And always thanks to TemptedForTea for beta reading, editing and keeping me on track!

Dawn, Van's favorite time of day. When guards were too tired at the end of their lookout and their relief far too exhausted at the start of the day. His best time to strike and disappear before the first rays of the sun lit up the bone-dry landscape.

The intel had been good, but the gang rotated their stock of young, supple bodies held in the rows of freight cars often. All the other freights had been emptied out after the crowds had left the depot, none of them were the girl he was looking for. Everyone had gotten their fixes of drugs, alcohol, and sex, meaning the whores would be moved out to the next location. There was one freight left to be emptied.

Van knew if he didn't move fast he'd be out the money he'd paid for the information. He stepped from the shadows just as one of the two remaining guards completed his perimeter sweep. Right before the man turned the corner, Van struck.

He was quiet about it. Barely a shuffling of feet in the dusty clay, then the quiet snap of a neck. Van tucked the limp body into the shadowy corner where he had been hiding. He crept along the sheet metal wall taking slow, even breaths. The second guard, the only soul around, stood at the threshold of the freight container finishing his cigarette.

Van moved quickly, using a blade this time. He spilled most of the blood on the ground, only a few splatters fell on his boots and fingers. He didn’t need to be rescuing some terrified girl while covered in another man’s blood.

He shoved the body against the wall and out of the way. Hopefully, his query was either the quiet type or unconscious. He had trouble with victims too loud for their own good. The family paid him to find this one alive and bring her back whole, or as whole as he could find her.

Van would do his best, but if her bleating put his life at risk... sometimes it was just safer to put the girl out of her misery and call it a wash. Her blood would rinse cleanly off his hands the same as anyone else's.

Checking one final time that there were no surprises outside the freight, no boobytraps within, Van kept low and moved into the dark. His eyes took a minute to adjust. His gaze caught on a lump in the far left corner. It looked human shaped.

The air hung heavy and stale. Nauseating smells like sweat and blood and other putrid fluids made Van want to balk, but he pushed the feelings down. No matter what he found, he’d be out of there soon. The closer he got, the more the feeling rose in his gut that something was off.

Van looked over the bloody, broken body. It was clearly male, not his query then. Van kicked the body over onto its back. He watched it for a moment for signs of life before moving closer.

The man was breathing, though it was shallow and sounded raspy. Probably a few broken ribs based on the large maroon bruising on his flank visible through his torn shirt. He didn't groan or wake up when Van prodded at him. His pulse was steady, and his skin was warm.

His face was a mess of dried blood and open wounds, but he was… pretty. Van debated quickly, the longer he waited the more risk there was of being discovered. With a deep breath he put the man’s arms over his head and out of the way. Heaving the man over his shoulder Van ignored the smell. He ignored the worry that the man stayed silent and still as Van balanced him and took off the way he came.

They made it out without being sighted. Van stuffed the man’s still unmoving body into the back seat. He checked for a pulse one more time. It was there, strong and beating. Van figured the man was drugged and was thankful for it. He didn’t need any surprises on the road home.

It was a long drive, and blessedly uneventful. The sun crept high in the sky by the time Van dragged the man’s body from his backseat and into the house. He gently placed his new houseguest on the bed.

A small frown wrinkled Van’s face. He felt the man’s forehead and found it warm but not hot. They must have knocked him out with something strong for him to still be unconscious. Van stripped the tattered clothes from the man’s body.

He was fit, all compact muscle and olive skin. But for every expanse of beautiful skin there was a mark. It was more than just bruising, boot prints, and finger shaped marks that littered him. There were cigarette sized burns and what Van would bet were marks from a cattle prod. Tracks from needles lined the pronounced veins on the man’s forearms, the angle wrong for someone injecting themself.

Van got a bowl with hot soapy water and a few towels. He went to work cleaning his guest up, trying to be gentle as he washed the blood away from every wound. Cleaning the man’s hands, he was pleased to find the knuckles torn and scarred.

So, Van had a fighter in his bed, not just someone’s favorite pet to torture. Van had to refresh the water four times for how filthy the man was. The final place he cleaned was between his thighs. What he found was enough to make Van’s stomach turn.

There was blood, and semen, tearing and bruising that likely meant the man was awake and fighting when he was raped. Van wasn't terribly surprised, considering where he'd found the man and how gorgeous he was under all that blood.

Something like pity threatened to bloom in Van’s chest but he pushed it down. There was no place for pity or regret. The world was terrible. If it weren’t, Van would have no place in it. If people didn’t kidnap and kill, didn’t hire hitters and arsonists, Van would be out of work and doomed to starve like so many around him.

The blankets on Van’s bed were thin, nearly threadbare, but they were something. He covered his guest and brushed the tangled hair out of his eyes. The cut on his strong nose, bloody abrasion on his temple, chapped lips, puffy eyes, none of it detracted from the man’s beauty. Van hadn’t seen such a pretty face up close in a long time...

Suddenly there was a breath, deeper and harsher, that caught in the man’s chest then stopped.

"Fuck." He groaned with a voice filled with dry gravel and dust. Long dark eyelashes fluttered open, fighting against the swelling of his eye sockets to open.

Van stepped back, silently watching as his guest took in his surroundings. He kept still, clearly trying to gauge the level of danger before lashing out. When the man finally lifted his head and caught sight of Van looming nearby, he jackknifed up and scrambled to put his back against the wall.

Van was impressed how well the man hid his wince of pain. He moved quickly but his limbs were heavy with fatigue and injury. But those eyes--in the daylight they shone like fine whisky in a fancy crystal tumbler.

"Where the fuck am I? And who the fuck are you?" Those gorgeous eyes were wide with panic.

"I'm Van." Holding his hands out in front of him, Van leaned back against the wall, slow with his movements. He let a small smile tug at his lips as the man gawked at him.

"Shit name, Van. Now how about answering my questions." His eyes thinned as he glared.

"I'm starting to understand how you got into your condition." Van tilted his head towards the man and his broken body. He was smart but had an even smarter mouth.

"My business, not yours." The man dared a look around the room and out the window on the far wall. "Leon don't know I'm here does he?"

"No, I was looking for someone Leon and his crew abducted. My intel was apparently outdated, because I ended up with you, not her." Van answered truthfully, curious how his guest would react.

"Sorry to disappoint." His smile was insincere, but Van thought it made him look cute.

"I'm not that disappointed." Van let honest lust show in his eyes. He was no knight in shining armor, and the man before him seemed to catch on pretty quick.

"She your old lady or something? I get in the way of you getting some?"

"She was my payday. Someone's kid who got swept up in trouble and in way over her head. Lucky for her, the family's got enough money to pay me to get her back." Van crossed his arms over his chest. He could see the fatigue was over taking the adrenaline in the way his guest’s shoulders started to slump.

"So, why'd you spring me?"

"I need more information to track her down. The two guards weren't exactly feeling chatty after I killed them." Van let the statement hang in the air.

"You killed them?" The man watched him with a suspicious expression.

Van nodded, gauging the man's reaction. At first his eyebrows rose scanning Van from head to toe a little more slowly. Then that beautiful face broke into an honest to god laugh.

"Goddamn, wish I could have seen their stupid fucking faces."

"They were pretty stupid." Van smiled. He warmed even more to the stranger.

"I cleaned you up best I could, but if you want a shower it's right through there." Van nodded to the open bathroom door. "I got some food in the kitchen, too."

The man stayed quiet for a moment, no doubt weighing his options. Whiskey brown eyes looked down at the sheets around his waist the back up at Van. "Clothes?"

"I can get you clothes." Van turned and pulled some sweats and one of his least worn shirts from the dresser in the corner of the room. When he turned back, it was to find the man trying to get to his feet with the sheet wrapped around his waist.

Van stopped and watched for a minute. His guest was lost in concentration, trying, and failing three times to stay up on his feet and not fall back on the bed. He muttered a quiet curse but didn’t ask for help.

After the fourth attempt and utter failure, Van intervened. He didn’t ask, he just put his arm under the man’s shoulder and lifted. They stood together, a little off balance, but stayed upright. They limped to the bathroom. The man’s quiet curses filled the air as they moved.

"You gonna be ok in here?" Van hovered close to where his guest leaned against the sink. That battered face was lined with tension, but also determination.

"I'll figure it out." He sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself away from the counter onto his feet. After a moment of panic, he remained upright, though hunched slightly towards his side with the broken ribs.

"You fall and bash your head, and I lose my lead on a payday. I don't need you getting more blood on my floors." Van chided, though he was pretty sure the teasing tone came through from the pinched expression on the man’s face.

"I'm _fine._ " He shoved stubbornly at Van’s chest. Van stepped out willingly just as the bathroom door slammed shut in his face.

Van wasn’t used to being treated so brashly in his own house. But he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He left the clothes on the bed, hoping the soft, baggy materials would serve well on his guest’s wounded flesh.

With a strange heaviness settling into his gut Van moved to the kitchen to scrape something passable together for a meal.

The shower ran for a solid thirty minutes, the old pipes screaming from the demand of the hot water. Van didn’t mind. He figured it would take more than water to wash off what his guest had been through, but he was welcome to try.

It was another thirty minutes after the water shut off that the man staggered into the kitchen. His hair looked better, no longer matted with blood and filth. The midnight black strands were pushed back from his face. Without gel a few strands fell forward, making him look just a bit askew and a lot more adorable. But Van kept that thought to himself.

Van didn’t name the feelings swirling around in his chest at the sight of a beautiful man hobbling around in his clothes. Instead, he focused on plating sandwiches for the two of them and sitting down without seeming too intimidating.

The man watched him like he might snap at any minute. It was a fair assessment, not reading a situation the right way was likely how he got some of his wounds.

“You never gave your name.” Van tried a conversational tone as the man joined him at the table.

“Nope.” The word popped from between his lips. He picked up his sandwich and took a massive bite, mustard and mayo dropping onto his chin.

“Should I just call you ‘beautiful eyes’?” Van drawled.

“Fuck you.” He spat back, mouth full. After a forced swallow, those whiskey brown eyes took hold of Van again. "So, what do I gotta do to pay my way?"

"You hiding cash somewhere I didn't already look?" Van took a bite of his own sandwich and watched his guest wince. "Your information’s enough."

"I can help you get her." The spark in those eyes was almost enough to get Van to agree. He was clearly a person who would put the work in to get the job done, but still a fool.

"You almost passed out walking to the shower. I can't get her and protect you at the same time." Van watched the man’s face twist between indignation and surprise.

Van didn’t care to examine why he used that particular phrasing. But he knew enough about his own bleeding heart that he would get himself into trouble protecting this stranger. "Sleep, rest, and heal up. You might end up being helpful."

They ate while discussing Leon’s operation and how he rotated his stock of women, men, and children around. It seemed like a pretty simple operation, cheap, and light on protection detail. Apparently the fact that Van’s surly houseguest had two guards was an anomaly in case he incapacitated one of them. Most of the women were kept in pairs with only one guard doubling as protection and pimp.

They pinpointed the most likely places Van’s query was taken to after the last location, about an hour’s drive between the spots, and in unfamiliar territory. It wasn’t the most ideal plan, but it was all he had, and more than Van had to work with when he rescued the man sitting before him.

Once they were finished eating, Van helped his houseguest to the bed. Despite his protests, he was asleep in less than two minutes. Van set about preparing for his trip. He’d leave in the morning. The less time wasted the better.

Just as the sun set he was packed and ready. Checking in on his guest, he found the man still splayed out on the bed sawing logs. Seeing no reason to disturb him, Van dropped down on the couch, shotgun loaded and tucked just under the skirt of the couch hidden from sight.

Sleep came easy and dreams were far more relaxing than usual. Van awoke to the sound of light footsteps entering the living room. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing slow. He figured from the lack of shoes and direction of entry it was his houseguest coming to have a look.

There were only a few usable weapons between his bedroom and the living room. Van didn’t doubt his guest’s creativity or capacity for violence. But to say that Van didn’t have a death wish most days of the week would be lying.

So, he laid back and waited for the man to make his move.

It got quiet again, Van could feel the warmth of the man’s body crouched close. The hands on his fly were a surprise. Van covered his shock with a deep sigh. The man paused only for a moment before continuing to open Van’s pants.

He reached inside and pulled Van’s flaccid dick free. Warning bells were going off in Van’s head, knowing this was either about to end very well or very poorly. When he felt the hand start to stroke it took everything Van had not to groan.

The man quickly added his mouth and Van couldn’t hold back. Fuck questionable morals, this guy knew how to suck cock. He dropped a hand down to rest gently on the man’s head. His hair was soft and long enough to tangle his fingers in.

Van didn’t hold back the satisfied sigh this time. He looked down and watched his cock disappear between bruised lips. The man didn’t raise his eyes, just kept sucking Van deeper and deeper into his throat until the clear sounds of wet choking echoed through the house.

Van was getting close, his fingers pulled tight on the back of the man’s head. It had been a long time since Van blew his load inside another human being, and he was right there.

But then it stopped, the man pulled off Van’s cock with a slurp and a lick. Van sucked in air through his teeth, fighting the urge to just yank that wonderful mouth back to finish the job. His calloused hand didn’t stop stroking, but it was far too loose a grip to bring Van off.

“You want to fuck me?” His voice was rough but teasing.

“I wanted to come in your fucking mouth.” Van growled.

“It always feels better inside, holding me down, get your cock as deep as you can inside me. You’re packing, but I can take it.” A hot tongue snaked its way up Van’s shaft. He _was_ packing, and no one had touched his particular package like this in years.

Van wanted to scream. He knew the man could take it. He’d seen evidence of that when he cleaned the bloody tears of the man’s abused hole before he woke up.

“You’re healing. I’m not going to fuck you.” Van was angry. Just as angry at his own functioning moral compass as he was at his guest for making such a tempting offer.

“I’m not some used up whore--”

“Right now, that’s exactly what you are. Denial ain’t gonna change that. I’m not gonna fuck you just so you can feel validated or vindicated or whatever the fuck this is.” Van shoved the man to the floor, falling down on top of him.

“Fine, then get off me.” He shoved, but Van had a hold of his wrists. He pulled them overhead, pressing down into the scratchy carpet with one arm, the other free to wander down the man’s chest towards his pants.

“I’d rather we both get off.” Van fished into those loose fitting pants and pulled his houseguest’s cock free. It was flaccid but that was what Van had expected.

His guest was a survivor. Someone who got the job done no matter how distasteful. Van was angry, but he wanted to touch, to fuck, to come. He wanted that fire and that strength all to his own. He was rarely selfish, but in this he gave in to greed.

Van lined their dick’s up, using his big hand to hold them tight and stroke. Van laid kisses along the man’s throat, gentle and practically mocking. The man beneath him made sounds like Van just punched him, but it was heaven. How long had it been since Van had heard sounds from a lover?

He didn’t stop, he wasn’t gentle. They writhed together, alternating kisses and bites. Van was fairly sure he was bleeding from somewhere, but it felt amazing. The man arched up, veins on his throat protruding as he yowled. Hot come exploded all over their bellies. Van moved his hand faster, thrust his hips to increase the friction.

The world whited out as Van's body seized up. He nearly collapsed but caught himself on shaky elbows before crushing his injured lover.

The room was quiet and dark. They lay on the floor, wedged against the couch, and wrapped in each other's arms. It felt intimate. Van knew he was lonely, touch starved. It just felt too good not to let his guard down.

“You don’t have to pay your way by fucking me.” Van wanted to pretend. He wanted to believe that someone just wanted to touch him, wanted _him._

“You seemed to enjoy it well enough.” The man shot back. He didn't pull away, didn't even stir in Van's arms.

“I’m not some fucking white knight. I live in this shit world same as you… and it’s been a while. But I meant what I said. Your information is all I want from you as payment. I’m leaving as soon as the sun’s up. I’m going to get the girl and get my pay--"

"Fine. Can we move this to the bed then? My side is killing me." The man didn't say any more and Van was too tired for words.

He helped his guests to his feet, and they hobbled back to the bedroom. Wrapped up together, it was the best sleep Van had gotten in years. But, as promised, he was gone with the sun.

Three days and two nights later Van sat outside his house in the front seat of some wannabe gangster’s car… well, it was Van’s car now. Dead people didn’t own cars, so Van had taken it as retribution for his own vehicle now shot up and torched for his troubles. Van sat in the beat up sedan and started at his house. It was close to nine in the evening and the place looked empty.

Van saved the girl, returned her and got his pay. He did his job. He was good at his job. He made sure the family had his number if there was more trouble and spread the word to their friends, as long as they could pay.

Van started at the dirty, peeling paint and mangled old shutters as if they would give him the answer he wanted. Likely the man was gone--or he stayed, maybe he was waiting... Van berated himself for his cowardice. He glared ahead looking at nothing. He could sit here all day and wonder, or he could go inside and find out…

A half hour later he walked inside.

Van kept his footsteps light. The living room appeared just how he left it, no signs of a disturbance. No signs someone had ransacked the place either. Van skipped the kitchen and headed straight for the bedroom.

The door was closed.

Van turned the handle and took a breath. He heard the cock of the gun before he saw it. The barrel was pointed directly at his chest, held in the steady hand of the man in his bed.

"You're still here." Van stayed still, not foolish enough to jump to conclusions, nor dare acknowledge feelings like hope.

"You didn't say I had to go." The man glared at him; the gun still aimed at Van.

"You don't have to go." Van let his eyes scan over the man’s shirtless body. He looked better, far less bruised. His skin looked a bit more sunkissed than Van remembered. He wondered if the man had been out in the sun basking in the heat.

"You should shower and come to bed."

Van raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. His dumbstruck silence must have annoyed his houseguest because before Van could pick his jaw up off the floor, he spoke again.

"It's late, I'm tired, and I can smell you from here." He lowered the gun and flipped the safety on before tucking it back under the pillow. “You look stupid with your mouth hanging open like that.”

Van shut his mouth. He turned and trudged into the bathroom. He stripped and showered on autopilot. His brain was turning the last few minutes over and over in his head. In the end he was too tired to try and figure it out.

Crawling into bed wearing nothing but a fresh pair of boxers Van settled onto the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make sense of any of this until the morning. The man curled up under Van’s arm, laying his own arm and leg over Van’s body. Sleep took them both within minutes.

Van woke up just as the sun rose. In the morning light the man's face looked almost healed. The deep gash on his nose was scabbed closed. The swelling around his eyes was now only a slight puffiness that was likely more from sleep. Blood red and angry purple bruises were now a faded yellow-green tinting olive skin.

"You're staring and it's weird." The man's sleep rough voice pulled at something in Van's chest. He didn’t open his eyes. Van wanted to see those whiskey eyes in the morning sun.

"You look a lot better than when I left." Van dared to let a hand stroke through his bedmate’s sleep mussed hair. It was so damn soft.

"Been a long time since I could catch up on this much sleep and food." His words ended with a yawn and stretch.

Van watched with fascination as his companion relaxed back into his arms. They watched each other with quiet fascination for a moment before the man started to look nervous.

“I got nowhere else to go, alright? My brother's dead, and I ain't got a friend in the world.”

"You d--" The man silenced Van's protests with a kiss.

Van gave in completely as the man shoved him onto his back. Muscular thighs straddled Van's hips, rubbing them together in a lazy little lap dance. He grabbed a hold of Van's wrists in a firm grip, pinning him to the mattress.

“Abe.” He whispered into Van's lips.

“What?” Van pulled his head back, confused by what he had just heard.

“My name is Abe. I want you to know the right name to scream.” Abe nipped at Van's bottom lip before moving lower with each kiss.

“Abe.” Van sighed. He let his body relax as Abe continued his trail of kisses southward.

He paused at Van's navel. “Yeah, but say it louder.”

“Make me.” Van shot back. His eyes dropped closed as Abe crawled between his legs. His boxers were stripped from his body and the warmth of an eager mouth soon had Van desperately fighting the need to scream out.

In the end he shouted Abe's name loud enough to rattle the windows.


	2. Cover art by the amazing mittagsfrau

Huge THANK YOU to mittagsfrau for the beautiful cover art!


End file.
